No Day But Today
by Maraudess
Summary: AU Rent-inspired almost-crossover. In a world of war, poverty, addiction, illness, and suffering, the Marauders will need to learn to trust their friends and their instincts in order to stay alive. Together they'll learn to live, love, forget regret, and take the chances they deserve to take, because there really is no day but today. Marauder-Era, primarily Wolfstar
1. Rent

James held the Muggle camcorder to his eye, made sure it was rolling, and then turned it on himself. "December 24th – 9 P.M. From here on in, I shoot without a script." He shook his head, laughing ruefully at himself. "See if anything comes of it…instead of my old shit." He sighed. "Plus, at least it's something to remember me by. If this war does me in…or any of us…there's always this film. Maybe someone in the future can take something good out of this mess."

He turned the camera to his flat mate. Sirius, sitting on the couch, trying to tune a guitar he hasn't played in a year. He scoffed at James. "Like the Death Eaters are going to worry about saving a Mudblood camera when they blow this whole street to bits."

"That's Sirius," James announced. "He's our resident cynic. He's just coming back from half a year of withdrawal."

"You're documenting my addiction?" Sirius quirked an eyebrow up.

"No, your recovery. Scratch that – how your recovery was even more difficult and life-altering due to the fact we're in the middle of a war." James struck a dramatic pose before focusing the camera back on his friend. "Hold it – steady – tell us, Sirius. What was it like, recovering from an addiction to the Wolfsbane potion?"

"Well," Sirius said drily, "it's not hard to give up an addiction when you have to kill all your dealers because they're Death Eaters."

"And that's _exactly_ what I want my future son to hear," James snorted. "James Jr., cover your ears, okay? Uncle Sirius gets grumpy when we talk about his drug addiction…or the war…or almost anything nowadays."

"Like you've got anything to smile about," Sirius huffed, setting his guitar down next to him. "Remind me, James – how's Marlene doing?"

The smirk fell right off James's face. "She's–"

"Gone, right. Dumped you, didn't she?" Sirius was in one of his rare, bitter moods where he'd take a swipe at anything that moved, including his best friend.

James just shook his head and turned the camera off. "Look, Sirius–" he began, trying to decide how to tactfully broach the subject of Sirius's disinheritance, his brother's recent death…luckily he was saved by the bell – or the ringing of the Muggle telephone, actually.

"_Speeeeak_", James and Sirius's voices blared from the answering machine. After the beep, a motherly sort of voice filled the flat, crackly with static and sounding very far away.

"James? James, dear, it's your mother." Mrs. Potter fussed with something for a moment before putting the phone's mouth piece closer to her face. "Ah, okay. Is that better, dear? Can you hear me? It'd be so much easier if you didn't insist on using all this Muggle technology. Your father doesn't understand how to use the telly-phone, he's having a fit because you hardly ever answer your owl mail, there's no way to get in touch with you anymore – well, anyway. We're going to miss you tomorrow, everyone's here, trying to keep safe – all the wards are up, the Death Eaters should stay away – everyone sends their love. Tell Sirius we send our love. And James, I'm so sorry about Marlene. Plenty of other fish in the sea, right? Happy Christmas, dear. We love you! Buh-bye!"

A loud clatter and a _click_ as Mrs. Potter struggled to hang up the telephone, and then Sirius burst out laughing. "Plenty of other fish in the sea, huh, Potter?"

"Shut it, Black," James replied, flushing; he lunged at Sirius and took a swing at his friend's face. "Mummy sends her love, Siri."

"_Don't_ call me that–" Sirius griped, shoving James onto the floor and pinning his arms down, but before he could get in a good punch, the phone rang once more.

"_Speeeeeak_!" the answering machine demanded, and after a beep, James and Sirius heard a very familiar off-tune sort of warbling – "Chestnuts roasting…"

"Peter!" Sirius and James yelled as James shoved Sirius aside and dove for the phone.

"I'm downstairs!" Peter Pettigrew exclaimed; in a phone booth on the street just outside the flat, he grinned up at his friends' apartment like they could see him from inside. "Throw down the key!"

"The Marauders are getting back together!" Sirius yelled gleefully from the couch.

"A wild night is now pre-ordained!" James declared, pumping his fist in excitement.

A scuffling sound was heard from Peter's end of the phone call. "I may be – ah – detained," he said quickly before the line went dead.

Downstairs, outside, in the freezing December air, a cluster of Death Eaters surrounded Peter and, wands ignored, began beating him, shouts of "Mudblood!" getting swallowed up by the howling wind as he was dragged down an alleyway.

"Detained?" James turned quickly to Sirius, who shrugged. "What did he mean, detained?"

The phone rang yet again, and James grabbed it before the answering machine picked up. "What do you mean, detained?"

"Chestnuts roasting–" Only this wasn't Peter, but a sneering, nasally, greasy sort of voice.

"Snape? Shit!" James and Sirius stared at each other, than turned anxiously back to the phone.

"I'm on my way," Severus Snape announced.

"Great! Fuck," James muttered. Sirius closed his eyes.

Snape's voice oozed out of the telephone receiver. "I need the rent."

"What _rent_?" Sirius snapped.

"This past year's rent – which I let slide," Snape replied.

James groaned, while Sirius growled into the phone, "You said we were clear! When you bought the building? When you were our _roommate_, remember that, you git?"

"How could I forget?" Disdain dripped from Snape's voice. "You, me, Pettigrew…and Marlene. Tell me, James, is she still performing? Are you still her production manager?"

"She's got a performance tonight, in fact," James replied. "If the building doesn't get torn down by Death Eaters first, that is. And…she fired me, two days ago."

Snape chuckled. "And you're still dating, right?"

This time Sirius chuckled and replied, "He's been _dumped_."

"Marlene's found herself a new man? Who is it?" Snape demanded.

"It's not exactly…" James cleared his throat, while Sirius snorted.

"What's his name?" Snape asked. Sirius barked with laughter, while James stifled a sigh.

"Dorcas Meadowes," he replied, while Snape and Sirius laughed together, in agreement on something, for once.

"Well, regardless – rent is due. Or I'll have to evict you." Snape's slimy voice sneered one last time before he hung up, and James and Sirius stared at each other. They glanced around their apartment – no heat, no power, an illegal wood-burning stove already ablaze with the last of this week's _Daily Prophets_ and Sirius's discarded songs.

"How're we gonna pay last year's rent?"


	2. Light My Candle

In a dark, dirty alleyway near the flat, Peter lay on the ground, crumpled and coughing. And cold. And probably bleeding from somewhere. He shivered and tried to sit up, but immediately slumped back over. "Ugh, dizzy," he moaned.

"Help," he finally called, weakly, and then a little louder when he could manage it. "Help! Someone, ugh, please. _Help_."

Soft footsteps pattered down the alleyway, stopping just in front of Peter's line of sight. Small feet, delicate-looking shoes. Girly feet. Peter glanced up just a girl knelt beside him. Very pretty, long brown hair, and concern crinkling her brow. "You okay, love?" she asked.

Peter groaned as he sat up. "I think so. Did you see them?"

"The people who attacked you?" The girl glanced over her shoulder. "No, I think they got away. Did they take any money?"

"No – no, there was nothing to take, except…" Peter's hand flew to his pocket, and yes, his wand was still tucked safely away. "I wasn't worried about being mugged, usually the Death – I mean…" Peter trailed off awkwardly, and the girl smiled sympathetically.

"It's okay. My mother's a witch. I'm a Squib, unfortunately." She made a face. "They were Death Eaters, weren't they?"

"Yes. And they usually do much worse." Peter groaned and touched a bruise blooming on the side of his face. "Ow."

"Here, let me." The girl reached out, gently, and examined the injury. "How badly are you hurt?"

"Not so bad…" Peter wobbled to his feet, and the stranger quickly wrapped an arm around him.

"Let me bring you to my mother. She's a Healer. She can fix you up in no time. I'll have you home by Christmas, I promise." And she smiled a smile so brilliant and honest that Peter felt he could believe her immediately, with no doubt that she could possibly be a Death Eater or spy or anything like that. Her eyes were the same blue as Albus Dumbledore's, and there was something so trustworthy in a hue like that.

"What's your name?" he asked as they left the alleyway; they would have to walk, as she was a Squib and Peter was in no condition to Apparate anywhere.

She smiled at him and tugged on his hand to lead him down the street. "I'm Angela," he said, but as the December moonlight fell in silver rays over her hair she looked more like an angel.

xXx

Sirius put his guitar away and lingered in his room for a moment, trying hard not to think and failing miserably; when he emerged, James was bundling up in a scarf and looking for his keys. "Going out?"

James looked up almost guiltily. "Yeah. Marlene called…she needs help setting up for her protest tonight."

Sirius snorted and moved back towards the couch. "You're a git."

"Yeah." James studied his friend. "I don't suppose you'd want to see her performance tonight?"

Sirius just shrugged. _No_ was clearly etched across his face, though he tried not to disappoint James entirely. "If I'm not busy."

"Right." James didn't look convinced. "Come out to dinner with us afterwards?"

"Zoom in on my disinheritance and empty wallet."

Smirking, James made his way towards the door. "Touché." Sirius knew James had enough money to at least pay for dinner, but Blacks were by nature too proud to accept charity or beg for anything. Blacks didn't ask; they were entitled. James paused anyway with his hand on the doorknob, wishing he could tell Sirius to eat, he was looking pale, or force his friend to come out so he could make sure Sirius wasn't going to start using, or try anything desperate…

All he said, though, was "Take your potion" before leaving, locking the door to the flat behind him.

Sirius huffed out loud, shoving a couch cushion onto the floor. It didn't relieve much of his frustration. He jumped to his feet and walked out onto the flat's fire escape. _Merry bloody Christmas_, he thought to himself.

It hadn't been a wonderful year for Sirius Black, to say the very least. A few years ago, his parents had disinherited him; his parents certainly supported Death Eater ideals, although they left the actual dirty work to other followers of the Dark Lord. They disapproved of Sirius's friends, his motorbike, his haircut, and his overall life choices, especially his decision to fight with the good guys during the war. Sirius's brother, Regulus, made his parents proud by becoming a Death Eater as soon as he was old enough. However, the lifestyle had quickly become too much for him. He'd tried to leave, but one does not simply leave the Death Eaters without consequences.

"_Sirius, please_," _Regulus had pleaded one evening, standing right here on this fire escape, drenched to the bone as rain poured around him. "Please," sobbing, "Please, you've got to help me, Sirius. I'll do anything, please, just help me get out of this mess…"_

_Blacks do not beg, and Sirius had turned his brother away…_

_Days later, in the _Daily Prophet_, an obituary…_

_Regulus Black, found dead in his home – _

"No!" Sirius gripped the railing between white-knuckled fingers, panting, grinding his teeth together. "No, _fuck_…"

_And then he had turned numb and turned to drugs._

Muggle drugs weren't worth the effort, really. He had gone straight for Wolfsbane, a rare sort of potion, difficult to brew and even more difficult to find. It was created to ease the pain of transformation for werewolves during the full moon and allow them to keep their human minds, but for non-werewolves, it created a hell of a high, better than any Muggle drug available. Unfortunately, it had made Sirius so ill that James had eventually forced him to quit his habit, which led to six months of awful withdrawal.

Withdrawal was better than actually needing Wolfsbane potion because of lycanthropy, however, which was so taxing on one's body that death was almost certain before the age of thirty.

_BOOM BOOM BOOM_

Three solid knocks on the door startled Sirius out of his thoughts. He ran back inside to open the door, cursing James under his breath for being so goddamn careless with his keys and his wallet and –

Sirius was already demanding "What'd you forget?" as he opened the door before he realized it was not, in fact, James standing in front of him.

Instead he was face-to-face with someone about an inch taller than him, tan, long and gangly with a bit of muscle on his slim limbs. He looked cold under a thin shirt and jeans, scuffed shoes, no jacket; he had a few scars on his face under sandy brown hair, but his eyes were golden, bright and sparkling with something that looked like mischief. "Got a light?" he asked, holding a candle out to Sirius.

"I know you. You're…you're shivering," Sirius said quickly, letting the other man inside.

"It's nothing. They turned off my heat. Just a little…light my candle, would you?" The man looked up when a silence stretched between them. "What are you staring at?"

Sirius couldn't take his eyes off this man's eyes. For all that Regulus looked like Sirius, he had had brown, not silver, eyes, just like this stranger. "Nothing, uh – just – your hair, in the moonlight, it's–" He broke off before he embarrassed himself. "You look familiar."

He scrambled to find a match to light this man's candle. The stranger smiled his thanks, but stumbled a bit, closing his eyes and breathing in sharply. Sirius reached out to steady him. "Can you make it?"

The man grinned, abashed. "Yeah. Just – just haven't eaten much today." He chuckled. "The room's stopped spinning, anyway, so – what?"

Sirius started. "Nothing – your eyes, they just…they reminded me of–"

"I always remind people of…" The stranger laughed ruefully. "Who is it? Boy? Girl? Girlfriend?"

"He died – he was my brother," Sirius admitted, his eyes still on this intruder, whose candle had mysteriously flickered out when Sirius hadn't been paying attention.

"It's out again – sorry, you know. About your brother. Would you…?" He held out the candle once more, an apologetic look on his face.

"Yeah." Once more, Sirius lit the candle and led the stranger towards the door. "Well…goodnight."

He had taken no more than four steps back into the flat when suddenly, the stranger knocked on the door yet again. Sirius rolled his eyes, not in the mood for any more games. "What, it blew out again?"

"No, I – I think I dropped, uh…something…" The man stumbled back into the room, dropping to his knees and searching the darkened floor for something. His hands were trembling again, Sirius noticed, and laced with scars similar to the ones on his face.

"I know I've seen you somewhere before, though," Sirius said thoughtfully, trying to place where he had seen the stranger before. He knelt beside the man and began searching for – "What exactly did you lose?"

"It was my, uh…it was a potion," the man said quickly, flushing, and Sirius knew immediately. Until this point, he hadn't even been sure if this man was a wizard, but Sirius wasn't an idiot – he could figure out exactly what sort of potion this man had lost.

"Look, okay, I've been where you've been," he told the stranger. "I used to shiver like that–"

"I have no heat, I told you," the stranger snapped.

"I was a junkie, too."

"Look, it's not that!"

"No?" Sirius jumped to his feet, ran a hand angrily through his hair. "God, I know I've seen you somewhere – was it buying Wolfsbane on the streets? Is that where I know you from?"

Finally the man shook his head, smirking to himself. "Do you know Albus Dumbledore?"

Sirius's eyes widened. "Yes! Do you?"

"I work for him," the man replied. "I do some missions for him, helping the war effort. It doesn't pay a fortune, but it's a living."

Sirius nodded. "I must have seen you somewhere before – Diagon Alley, or Hogsmeade, or something. Hogwarts? Did you go to Hogwarts as a student?"

There was a bitter tone to the man's voice as he replied, "No, I attended Muggle schools. My parents thought it was…ah…safer."

"Safer." _Muggle schools_. Sirius snorted. "Right. Look, why don't you just forget that potion stuff. You look like you're sixteen."

Now the man was offended. "I'm nineteen. Same as you, I'm sure. Look, can you just turn the lights on so I can find my potion and leave?"

"Use the moonlight. My power's out," Sirius snapped.

"Fine. _Accio potion._" The man stood as a small bottle flew into his hand. "Thanks for the light, mate. See you around."

"Wait…I'm Sirius."

He had no idea what possessed him to tell this stranger his name, but the man just grinned before walking backwards and slipping out the doors, saying on his way out, "I'm Remus…but they call me Moony."


	3. The Tango Lily

xXx

Marlene's protest was a dangerous idea to begin with, but to do so in a vacant lot in the middle of December was just insane, in James's opinion. He blew hard on his hands to warm them up and approached the stage, where Marlene was surely waiting for him to assist with the equipment…

It was not, in fact, Marlene fighting with cables and speakers, but a familiar redhead from James's school days. "Lily? Lily Evans?" he called, a grin spreading across his face.

Lily whipped around, her hair swinging in place a second later. "_You_," she snapped. "I thought they'd have kept you locked up in the Hogwarts dungeons."

"_Au contraire,_ my fair Lily-flower," James cooed. "Nothing could keep me away from _you_…not even Professor McGonagall's strong desire to feed me to the Giant Squid. Now, how may I be of assistance?"

Lily groaned. "You know, I told her not to call you."

"That's Marlene," James said cheerfully, "but can I help, since I'm here?"

Biting her lip, Lily hesitated. "Oh, fine," she finally huffed, "but only because Marlene is nowhere to be found – probably out somewhere with Dorcas, I'm sure–"

"Don't remind me," James muttered.

"Right." Lily grinned and tapped on a microphone, testing for feedback. "I forgot, she _dumped_ you for Doe, didn't she?"

"I don't want to talk about it," James said firmly. He gestured to a microphone. "Say something. Anything."

"Test? One, two, three?" Lily said cautiously, glancing to James as if for approval. He pretended to wince.

"Anything but _that_."

Lily groaned. "Look, this is not my idea of a fun evening. Fighting with microphones, freezing my arse off…and to top it all off, I'm with you. So just tell me if you can fix the cables or not. Marlene said she'd be here, but I'm not a theatre person, I know abso-bloody-lutely nothing about sound equipment or…or any of this. And frankly I'm not even sure she should be protesting, considering…"

James nodded at Lily's sudden concern. "Considering the whole world's gone mad and anyone can be a Death Eater, these days?"

"I'm not even sure it's safe to call them that anymore," Lily admitted, glancing over her shoulder although they were quite alone. "You never know who you can trust…"

"You can trust me," James said firmly, and Lily looked up, surprised, into his honest face.

"I don't doubt that," she finally said. "You may have been a git back in school, but..."

"But what? Do continue, please. Flatter me." James beamed, and Lily rolled her eyes.

"You don't look like you're about to start shooting snakes out of your eyes, so I suppose I do trust you."

James grinned. "Enough to accompany me to dinner after Marlene's show tonight?"

"God, are you still not over your schoolboy crush? Give it a _rest_, Potter." Lily made a face. "Now help me with these microphones."

xXx

James returned to the flat with a soppy, lovesick grin on his face. "She's warming up to me," he announced to Sirius, who was sprawled out on the couch, making puffs of colored smoke appear out the end of his wand.

"Who, Marlene?"

"No!" James looked offended. "_Lily_."

"Lily Evans?" Now Sirius looked vaguely interested. "Are she and Marlene still friends?"

"Yes, and she needed my help tonight untangling microphone chords," James said dreamily.

"Romantic," Sirius smirked.

James tugged on his friend's hair. "It was _very_ romantic, you git. Anything exciting happen when I was gone?"

Sirius shifted. "Some bloke came in and asked me to light a candle for him."

"Someone we know?" James asked tensely. "Was it a Death Eater?"

"Doubt it." Sirius thought back to scrawny, scarred, smiling Moony. "His name was Remus." He decided to keep the nickname to himself, for now.

"Remus Lupin?" James raised his eyebrows. "He works with Dumbledore. I've heard his name mentioned before."

"Never heard of him," Sirius began, before the door swung open to reveal one slightly battered but beaming Peter Pettigrew.

"Pete!" James ran to the door and threw an arm around his friend. "Took you long enough to get here, mate."

"Well, I had a detour along the way." He gestured to his injuries. "A few Death Eaters wanted to make it clear that pudgy half-bloods were no better than Mudbloods, in their opinions."

James winced, and Sirius shook his head. "Tossers," he muttered, and then glanced up as he felt Peter staring at him. "Hey, Pete, how are you?"

"Never better, actually," he replied. "There's someone I want you to meet."

And with that, a gorgeous brunette sauntered into the room, smiling widely and wearing a soft red gown reminiscent of Mrs. Clause. "Guys," Peter said almost proudly, "this is Angela."

"Peter told me about you," she said sweetly. "You must be James, and…" She turned to Sirius sheepishly. "I know all about you. My mother is a Healer at St. Mungo's."

Sirius flushed angrily. "What happened to patient confidentiality and all that rot?"

"I work with my mum whenever I can," Angela replied sharply. "I was there half the time you stumbled in all drugged up, but I'm sure you wouldn't remember me, huh?"

The anger subsided to something that would have been akin to shame, had Sirius not been a Black. "Forgive me if my memory's a bit fuzzy. It was a rough time," he snapped.

"I'm not judging you. Honestly, I think what you did is quite noble. Not many people can kick a Wolfsbane habit once they're addicted. The fact that you survived is really sort of astonishing." Angela smiled, and Sirius relaxed just a bit.

"So you'll never guess who I ran into on the way back up," Peter said rather grimly. He didn't wait for an answer – "Snape. He's on his way up here, talking some sort of rubbish about rent."

"He expects us to pay the rent from this past year," James replied, disgusted. "He's a git."

"An ugly git," Sirius added.

"He said Marlene has a protest tonight? I didn't know. Is she still going on about the war effort?" Peter asked.

James picked up his camera and fiddled with the lens. "She thinks a few protest rallies are going to stop this Voldemort bloke from all the killings he's planned. Of course, if Snape and his Death Eater attitude have anything to say about it–"

"Speak of the devil," Sirius suddenly spat out, standing up and clenching his hands into firsts. He glared at the doorway of the flat, where one greasy Severus Snape stood leering. James held his camera to his eye.

"Zoom in on Snivellus, our ex-roommate. Once a greasy yet tolerable slimeball with enough money to cover the portion of the rent we couldn't afford, he's now gone completely off the deep end and joined the war on the _wrong_ side – the losing side."

"The side which represents the future, Potter," Snape drawled, crossing the threshold and folding his arms over his chest. "And by the way – Marlene is protesting just for the sake of protesting – not against Death Eaters, or my attitude, thank you very much."

James looked into the lens of his camera and said solemnly, "Snivellus used to have a _bit_ of a heart, ladies and gentlemen. Not much. But it was there, until one Lily Evans dumped him–"

"She was never my girlfriend," Snape snapped.

"Even better," James said, swinging the camcorder back to Snape. "Rejected by the only girl he's ever loved, lonely, desolate Snape plunged headfirst into a life with the Death Eaters, a life of…what would you say you _do_, exactly, Snivellus? Set flowers on fire? Feed snakes to your master, Moldywart?"

"You watch your mouth, Potter," Snape hissed. "The Dark Lord will have a plan for you, you'll see. And you'll regret the day you mocked the most feared wizard of all time."

"I don't care enough about this bloke to fear him," Sirius scoffed. "Do you have a purpose for being here, Snivelly, or could you kindly piss off before you get the couch all greasy?"

"I came here for the rent. But it appears you imbeciles haven't acquired enough skills yet to actually search for a paying job. So I'll let it slide – for now – and instead, let me leave you with a message: Stop Marlene's protest, or there will be consequences from the Dark Lord himself."

"His cronies, more like," Sirius muttered as Snape slammed the door behind him on his way out. "I don't believe a word of it. This Riddle bloke – Voldemort – whatever name he's going by now – he's just another pureblood supremist lunatic. My family's full of them. This war'll blow over before anything even starts."

"Don't be too sure," Angela said quietly. "I wanted to invite you all – I mean, on the way to Marlene's protest, we wanted to make one quick stop."

"Everyone's invited," Peter piped up. "Mark, if you want to invite Lily or Marlene or anyone…"

"It's called the Order of the Phoenix. It's a group of people opposing Voldemort and his ideas – sort of an anti-Death Eater organization. You don't have to stay too long, but if you wanted to stop by and help the war effort in any way…it was created by Albus Dumbledore," Angela added, and suddenly a hush fell over the small group.

"First I've got to check on Marlene's protest," James said. "But if it's Dumbledore asking, I'll be there."

"Sirius?" Angela asked hesitantly.

The pureblood's eyes were bright with the burning desire to _do _something, anything, but his voice was cold when he said, "I'm not much company, these days. Besides, if Dumbledore really wanted wizards helping the war effort, he'd have asked me personally."

"Don't be a prat," Peter began, but Angela laid a hand on his arm and said, "It's fine. He can catch up later. Come to the protest, at least!"

She and Peter left with a wave, and James followed with one last glance backwards toward his friend on the couch. Sirius ignored him, sitting still until the door closed. He walked over to the window, where the nearly full moon hung heavy in the sky, mocking him, daring him to leave the flat and find a bit of danger, excitement, anything beyond the misery he was living in.


End file.
